Matter of Factly
by Copper Fire
Summary: Harry's decided something, and decides to take action on it. This fic can go four ways, and depending on your reviews, it could be Dark!Harry, HPDM, a lemon, or it could end here. Your choice, happy readings!


When all is said and done, whom can we count on but our enemies?  
  
Matter of Factly  
  
by  
  
Copper Fire  
  
Harry stared at the ceiling of his room, wishing the past away. He knew it would do no good, of course, but he could still wish, no matter what the price.  
  
Damnit.  
  
But that still didn't' make his situation any easier. He had promised himself he would do it, and he'd be damned if he wasn't. Harry swung his legs over his sheet less bed, and felt the ground, cool and undemanding beneath his feet. He'd do it tonight, he was sure of it. Harry listened to the crickets chirping outside of his barred window, and stood up.  
  
He couldn't deal with the Dursley's anymore. Sod Dumbledore and his half- baked plans. The Boy who Lived walked over to the shoddy chest of drawers in the corner of his room, and began taking clothes, items, and any parcel's he could find out of it. Nine more weeks of summer, and then he'd be back at Hogwarts.  
  
Or would he?  
  
The night outside his bedroom window wore on, oblivious to the happenings in the room, or perhaps just uncaring. The moon outside, though half-full, gave just enough light for Harry to see by, but little enough so not to wake the Dursleys. Harry's socked feet pattered lightly on the floor as he packed away his things. A small smile played at his lips as he shut his trunk with a small click.  
  
A self-satisfied sigh escaped his lips. He knew, deep down in his mind, that this was probably a very stupid thing to do. But he didn't care. He simply couldn't stand the thought of spending another day here. Harry turned to his closet and rummaged through its contents, finding a small backpack that had once belonged to Dudley. It had met its unfortunate and unseemly end when Dudley had left two boxes of firecrackers in it after Guy Fawkes Night. The entire back had been blown out, but that was what made it perfect, and suited it to his purpose. (2)  
  
Harry slid it onto his back, wincing slightly as it barely touched the cuts and scrapes. The backpack hid them, without touching them, and that was exactly what Harry wanted. Harry winced as his back itched, drawing another rivulet of blood to run down his back.  
  
Yes, he definitely needed the backpack.  
  
Pushing the thought from his mind, Harry moved around in the semi-darkness, checking the place over, making sure he didn't forget anything. With a movement almost tentative, he reached out to touch the loose floorboard, wondering if he should take the contents. . .  
  
Well, of course he should take the wand, he thought, and grabbed it, tucking it into his pants-pocket, lest he need it. It was the other things he was thinking about not taking. The letters, the sweets. He had already packed away the spell books in his trunk; he knew he would need those for furthering his education, but the letters. . .  
  
. . .did he really want to take those? Harry squatted down in front of the side of his bed-no, the bed; it wasn't his any longer if he would be leaving.  
  
A tear squeezed out of Harry's eye. He hated it here, but, but, life with the Dursleys was so oddly familiar, comforting in it's familiarity. He guessed, if he could count on nothing else, at least he could count on the fact that the Dursley's did and always would treat him like dirt. Harry smiled a genuine smile. At that moment he loved the Dursleys, utterly and completely. They would never wake up one day, and treat him differently. They would never act out of character, and they would always treat him just as he expected them to.  
  
And best of all, he always, always knew where he stood with them, and he knew that while he was there, he would never loose his bearings.  
  
Harry froze as he rocked back and forth on the ground.  
  
What was he going to do?  
  
(1)  
  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
(1) At this point in the story, I came across a certain revelation. This story could go in three, completely different directions.  
  
One: He stays at home, where things are comfortably predictable, and this becomes a lemon, with lotsa despair and eventually HP/DM. No supernat, just a plain ole, big fat and yellow lemon.  
  
Two: He stays, end of fic.  
  
Three: This is the one I was leanin towards. . .he leaves anyway, despite his newfound attachment to the Dursleys and..  
  
a) Gets captured by some magical, supernatural band of beings  
  
b) just as he leaves, the Dursleys house is attacked, and it turns into another lemon or perhaps he gets kidnapped.  
  
c) or Harry goes dark, either by himself, or by some group of dark peoples.  
  
Four: Last one, and I have a para for this! It starts out right after where the  
  
(2)  
  
appears..  
  
"Harry relaxed, and let his consciousness go. He felt the tugging of The Other at the back of his mind and slowly let him shape his body to its will. Harry felt an itching at his back, in-between his shoulder blades, and felt that itching turn to a burning, and finally felt the form beneath the skin wrench free, showering the wall and his back with pieces of flesh and droplets of blood. Flexing his new appendages, Harry felt the voice of The Other return to him, congratulating him on taking the finial step.  
  
Yes small one, do you feel it? Take them, try them out. . .  
  
Harry obliged, stretching out his great, leathery wings, wings of the deepest black, now covered in his own blood from the change. The wingspan only barely fit into the room, and Harry flapped them a few times, watching the dust clear from the nightstand, and a few errand papers blow across the room. Harry folded up his wings, and carefully fit them inside the backpack, adjusting them a little here and there, until they could fit at least semi-comfortably.  
  
With a last look around the room, Harry grabbed his trunk, and pulling open the door, slinked out into the hallway.  
  
If any had dared to look into the mirror in the hall, all they would have seen would be a trunk dragging soundlessly across the floor, a large, black backpack, and a pair of glowing, red eyes, glaring from the darkness from a reflection-less being."  
  
And I would take that from there, with Harry being a half-demon. Or rather, has a demon-spirit as one-half of his consciousness, perhaps lurking in the subconscious.  
  
Soooooooooo, if you feel it's worth ur time, review and tell me what you think! I'll probably just make a fic for each one, but I still want your input, and will gladly write the highest-voted for one first!! (or the one's that have the most eccentric and well-written reviews!!)  
  
So tell me what you want, and I will write it! And tell other people!!  
  
cheers~Copper 


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